


Not Just Girls

by queerwriterbee



Series: Shopping Cart Drag Racers [10]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater, Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sense8 (TV) Fusion, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Gender Dysphoria, Groping, Inspired By Sense8, Light Angst, M/M, Menstrual Sex, Menstruation, Nipple Play, Pynch Week, Pynch Week 2018, Smut, Telepathic Bond, Trans, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans!Adam, trans adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 06:51:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15724194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerwriterbee/pseuds/queerwriterbee
Summary: Most days, Ronan relished in the beauty of their connection, visited his cluster, drew from their abilities, and leant his own as often as possible. Every accidental and purposeful connection felt like the greatest of gifts.And then there were days like today: where he felt like his head was being pounded by a thousand hammers, was sweating despite it being nearly winter and snowing on his farm in the Aran Islands, and the cramping of his non-existent uterus was so goddamn painful he’d thrown up twice already in the three hours he’d been awake.“Fuck you, Sargent, seriously,” he groaned from where he lay on his back on the floor of his bedroom.“It’s not me,” Blue said. “I’m not due for another ten days or so.”“Then who the fuck is putting his bullshite on me then?” he snapped. “You’re the only girl in the cluster, maggot.”“Yeah,” Adam said. “But, she’s not the only one who menstruates.”“I don’t understand,” Ronan murmured.Adam rolled his eyes.“I’m fucking trans, idiot.”(Pynch Week 2018 Day 5: Fandom Crossover - TRC + Sense8 ft. a Trans!Adam)





	Not Just Girls

**Author's Note:**

> All the trans masculine experiences that Adam talks about are my own experiences as a trans masculine person--if this doesn't fit your current narrative of what being trans is like/doesn't fit your trans experience sorry but??? this is what I feel and this is my fic so?????
> 
> Anyway, Pynch week day 5 prompt: fandom crossover! So I did Sense8 bc I love the show and am very dissappointed with the finale and also just I love trans Adam and the whole scene in season one where Lito gets Sun's period symptoms is fucking great so like why not do a parody with some sexy pynch??
> 
> Enjoy yall! Comments encouraged and welcomed :)

If you asked Ronan which one of the others he’d first felt the connection with, he honestly wouldn't be able to tell you. He didn’t think anyone in their cluster would be able to. Any small visitings they’d had before that first unified experience were immediately wiped out after. Tragedy tends to do that, tends to drown out all the small things you’d thought were significant before the strike; the things you didn’t know were small until after the havoc had been wrecked. 

They’d been a complete cluster of eight for only a couple of minutes before they simultaneously lost two of their own. Barrington Whelk— accidental suicide when the bullet he’d intended for Noah Czerny (another member of their cluster) exploded his gun in his face instead of firing into Noah’s skull—and Joseph Kavinsky—another sort of suicide, wrecking his white Mitsubishi Evo and three other cars with it while he was speeding down the streets of Sofia, Bulgaria flying higher than anyone should ever be, driving or otherwise. These were the ones taken from their new family the instant it was fully formed. 

According to Noah, they weren’t missing much in Whelk’s absence and Ronan had a feeling the same could be said of Kavinsky. He’d looked up local new sites in Sofia the day after he felt the metal of the other boy’s car door go straight through his ribcage. The crash had lead to the busting of a drug and human trafficking ring, apparently run by Kavinsky’s father, thanks to the drugs found in the back of the Mitsubishi. 

It had been a tragedy--the loss of life always would be— but, the remaining members of their cluster had a feeling they had avoided many more with the two boys’ deaths. 

The loss had also brought the remaining six members—Richard Campbell Gansey III (just Gansey will do) of London, England; Blue Sargent of Portland, Oregon, USA; Henry Cheng of Seoul, South Korea—recently relocated to Vancouver, Canada—Noah Czerny of Moscow, Russia; Adam Parrish of Henrietta, Virginia, USA—recently relocated to Boston, Massachusetts— and himself, Ronan Lynch of the Aran Islands, Ireland—impossibly close impossibly quick. 

The shared pain of the simultaneous impacts of the gun and the car crash, shared confusion and panic, shared mourning and resentment, the shared discovery of what it meant to be a sensate—and a sensate from a broken cluster at that—had them feeling like the truest definition of soulmates in a less than six months. They’d gotten to know each other in the most intimate ways possible: experiencing each others’ joy, fear, sorrow, apprehension, and more, sharing each others’ abilities,—Ronan would never forget lending his boxing skills and strength to Adam the day his father tried to beat him to death once and for all--inviting each other into their lives, visiting and being visited from miles and miles across the world. 

There were still things they didn’t know or understand, things they had yet to learn how to control—if they could even be controlled at all. Maybe if their mother--Persephone Poldma of New Orleans, Louisiana, USA—had survived longer than a week after birthing their cluster, things would have been easier for them. Maybe if their cluster parent was still alive, they would have been more capable, more well versed in their connection. But, Persephone had allowed her soul to wander too far from her body with noone to tether her to her physical form the last and final time she scryed, and their cluster had been orphaned too soon after their coming to life. 

All things considered, though, Ronan thought they were handling it all fairly well. 

Because even though the cluster had been brought into their new lives with their fair of misfortune, they’d been birthed with quite a bit of luck as well. 

For starters, Gansey knew nearly all there was available on homo sensoriums (sensates) and their potential connection to ley lines across the world. He’d been enamored with the phenomenon since coming across it in the beginning stages of his obsessive studies of ley lines at age fourteen. This was when he’d met Professor Malory—a Welsh philosophy scholar, last of his cluster, and father of sum fifty others. Together, they were able to provide Ronan’s cluster with some sort of guidance, even if it wasn’t always concrete knowledge or easily communicated to those who had not yet experienced it. 

Second: Henry Cheng and Noah Czerny. Two incredibly well connected individuals for those at the age of nineteen. 

Henry Cheng’s family headed one of the largest technological research and distribution corporations in the world—Seondeok Co. Ltd.—and he was being groomed to take over as soon as he had his bachelor’s in business from the University of British Columbia (his reason for moving to Vancouver from Seoul) and his mother was ready to step down as CEO. Even as merely the company’s teenage heir, Henry had access to the immense database of connections to the company—both legal and ‘not entirely legal.’ 

It was thanks to one of these latter connections that he was able to confirm Ronan’s suspicions that their late cluster member Kavinsky had indeed been involved in his father’s organized criminal empire. 

Noah Czerny, while also from a family of notoriety, found his connections by other means—none of which he could claim to be at least a little legal like Henry supposedly could.  When his sister Adele had come out as a transgender women to him (him age sixteen, her fourteen), crying about how impossible it would be to exist as such in Russia, Noah had taken it upon himself to fix all her problems through the power of the internet. 

It had taken only a few months for him to hone his hacking abilities and to create a name for himself amongst hacker communities and the dark web. Adele’s was the first of many LGBTQ+ folks in Russia and other countries across the world that he helped exist safely as their truest self. Without Noah, Adele wouldn’t have her (mostly) legal name, any of her surgeries, or perhaps even her life. 

Through Czerny’s connections made in his hacktivism (a term that he both loved and hated) and Cheng’s with his family’s company, they’d been able to find other people like them, fellow homo sensorium. They’d made a small group of friends outside of their cluster, none of which they’d been able to visit yet (through either physical or sensate means), though they were able to draw understanding and solidarity from in their interactions.

And third: Blue Sargent, aka Jane (if you asked Gansey anyway), aka daughter of the founder of the largest sensate dwelling in the world. Blue Sargent, her mother, her aunts, and all the other women that lived at 300 Foxway, Portland, Oregon, USA were homo sensorium that had somehow found their way to each other--some through blood, others through desperation, others through happy chance--and decided to make the old, patched, eclectic house in the Pacific Northwest their home. 

All of Blue’s family members by blood—notably, Maura (her mother), Jimi (her aunt), Orla, (her cousin), and Artemis (her, until late, estranged father—had all been birthed to a cluster by the time they were sixteen. Most of the other occupants of the house had also been born into a cluster before the age of eighteen, with the exceptions of Mr. Grey (Blue’s unofficial step-father) and Calla (Maura’s best friend) who’d been born again together at twenty-five. It was because of this that Blue was sure that she would be doomed to be the only sapien in a household of sensoriums. She’d wept with both joy and sorrow on the day her cluster came together. 

(She was still the only non-psychic in the house. But, she would take what she could get.)

Because of this, Blue was able to practice visiting sensates outside of her own cluster regularly and relay her learned experiences and skills to her own. Gansey was the only other one of their cluster that had been able to do this, and then it was only one person, Malory. Blue had all the occupants of 300 Foxway and the members of their clusters that didn’t reside in the house with them.

And maybe even the greatest benefit of all from Blue’s fortuitous living arrangements: Calla and Mr. Grey were both from the same cluster as their mother, Persephone. Though it was not the same as the connection they’d shared with their cluster mother, having them and Maura to regale them with tales of Persephone’s life—from first impressions and meetings, her never ending supply of homemade pies, to her part in the take down and reformation of BPO--and things they thought she would want her children to know was more than an orphaned clusters could ask for. 

With these assets already built into their cluster from the start, their collective determination to understand their connection, this gift, and how easily they fell into love with one another, Ronan felt more than lucky for the hand they’d been dealt in the forming of their cluster. 

But, again, it had only been six months since their birth. There was so much more for them to learn from and about each other, about the homo sensorium community as a whole. There were so many things hidden in plain sight and deep beneath their feet for them to discover. It was terrifying and thrilling in the best of ways. 

Most days, Ronan relished in the beauty of their connection, visited his cluster, drew from their abilities, and leant his own as often as possible. Every accidental and purposeful connection felt like the greatest of gifts. 

And then there were days like today: where he felt like his head was being pounded by a thousand hammers, was sweating despite it being nearly winter and snowing on his farm in the Aran Islands, and the cramping of his non-existent uterus was so goddamn painful he’d thrown up twice already in the three hours he’d been awake. 

“Fuck you, Sargent, seriously,” he groaned from where he lay on his back on the floor of his bedroom. 

He had his legs propped up against the wall, a hot water bottle on his lower abdomen, and a cold cloth pressed to his forehead. A massive pot of tea and a mug that had been drained several times already sat on a tray to his left, a bowl of dark chocolate truffles and popcorn to his right—though, he hadn’t touched the food since his second time barfing. 

“It’s not me,” Blue said, manifesting in the room and taking a seat against the wall beside Ronan. “I’m not due for another ten days or so.”

“Then who the fuck is putting his bullshite on me then?” he snapped. “You’re the only girl in the cluster, maggot.”

“Yeah,” Adam said. “But, she’s not the only one who menstruates.”

Ronan’s head snapped to the left where he’d heard the other boy’s voice come from. Instead of laying on the floor of his own room, Ronan found himself now lying width way across Adam’s bed in his tiny single dorm at Harvard.  

Adam lay beside him, his legs also against the wall but with his knees bent at a ninety degree angle, Blue now absent from the visiting. In place of a hot water bottle, he had two old tube socks filled with rice and heated up placed on his abdomen. His dusty hair was damp and curling against his forehead. Ronan took the cold cloth off his own head and placed it on Adam’s. 

“I don’t understand,” Ronan murmured. “You’re a guy.”

Adam laughed, though it was without humor. “Sometimes guys have uteruses, Ronan. Sometimes they have cunts and tits, too.”

Ronan furrowed his brow--both in confusion and in disdain to Adam’s choice of words. Blue and his mother had both made it clear the C word was off limits, no matter how fun it was to say. 

Adam rolled his eyes at Ronan’s silence. 

“I’m fucking trans, idiot.”

Ronan’s brows straightened and rose into the hairline of his buzzed head. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that this should have been his first logical conclusion. It made sense and it wasn’t like transgender people were an abnormality--millions of binary transgender folks existed in the world and who knows how many nonbinary transgender people there were. Logically, he knew this. 

However, Ronan lived a ridiculously sheltered life, socially speaking. While he did get off the Aran Islands to visit his brothers in Galway—where Declan was working as a lobbyist and taken Matthew with him to go to boarding school on the mainland—most of his time was spent at the Barns taking care of his mother, the animals, the crops, and the sale and distribution of their products. 

Even when he’d been offered to go to the same boarding school in Galway that Declan went to and Matthew was attending now, Ronan had refused and asked to be homeschooled instead. He’d gotten his high school degree a year and a half earlier than most because of this and was able to throw himself into the business of their farm immediately. He didn’t leave often and he didn’t want to. 

The Islands were a small part of the already small country of Ireland with an even smaller population. Across the three hunks of rock and dirt guarding Galway Bay lived approximately one-thousand-two-hundred people. Ronan rarely saw anyone outside of his family, the farm hands he’d hired when his mother’s illness took her legs from her, and the sixty or so inhabitants of the village just outside of the Lynch property. 

He was one of three queer folks that lived in the village--the other two being a lovely lesbian couple with a rugrat daughter (Opal) that loved to sneak onto the Barns property after school every day. There sure as hell weren’t any transgender folks—or at least, not any that were out. 

So, logically, Ronan knew transgender people existed. He’d followed them on social media (the few times a year he checked it anyway), he advocated for their rights, he got into heated arguments at the pubs over trans bathroom rights (something he still couldn’t believe needed argument at all.) But, he’d never met a transgender person in real life. Never even met someone who had met someone who was trans. 

It was, as horrible as it was to admit, like how he sometimes forgot that rhinos were an animal because he just wasn’t exposed to them enough to remember their existence or importance. Ronan had always been very out of sight out of mind—he just hadn’t realized how much it hindered him, how ignorant it made him, until this moment. 

“Oh,” Ronan said after a few moments of awkward, shocked silence. “But…”

“I swear to god, Lynch, if you say that I ‘look so much like a guy’ or ‘don’t look like you’re actually a girl’ I promise you I will take Blue’s pocket knife and stab you myself.”

“No! God, no, that’s not what I was going to say,” Ronan hurried to assure him. “I was going to say that you’ve never had your… your cycle, before—or never shown it anyway. But, I have a feeling that if all of them are like this they’d be pretty hard to hide.”

“Your point?” Adam spat, refusing to look at him.

“My point, is that aren’t these things meant to be… well, cyclical? Don’t they happen every month? We’ve been connected for six, so how come I or one of the others haven’t felt this goddamn torture or seen you suffering from it even once yet?” Ronan bit his lip. “I’m not trying to be rude or pushy it’s just I know if it’s not every month something could be wrong. My mom… when her cancer was really bad and she’d lost a lot a weight it’d stopped completely.”

Adam sighed, his breath pushing his damp bangs upward before they fell back over the towel Ronan had placed on his forehead. He pushed himself up onto his elbows then turned so that he had his back against the wall that his bed was pushed against. He removed the towel but kept the hot socks on his stomach. He still wouldn’t look at Ronan, instead focusing on his knobby hands as they unfolded and folded the damp cloth over and over again. 

“No, everything’s fine. I mean, there’s a logical and healthy reason for it.”

Adam paused, looking like he was debating something in his head and wringing the cloth between his hands so hard Ronan thought it might tear. 

“So, I’m doing hormone replacement therapy—I give myself a shot of testosterone once a month,” he began. “But, I’m on the lowest dose available. I didn’t want to push my limits because I didn’t know how it would affect my OCD and I just started being able to manage that. Meaning, I’m not on a dosage high enough for it to stop my period.”

“It just slows it instead then?” Ronan asked, moving to sit up like Adam, though his back turned to the head of the bed and his face toward Adam instead of the position Adam had taken.

“No,” Adam answered. “I wasn’t finished. So, the HRT doesn’t stop my period, but I got an IUD about a year before our cluster was born. An IUD stands for intrauterine device: its a form of birth control that they place inside of your uterus instead of taking a daily pill or having an arm patch or something.”

Ronan hated that Adam assumed that he wouldn’t know what that meant and hated himself even more for the assumption being correct. So much for Cheng’s and Sargent’s presence making him more “woke.”

“If you’re on a hormonal IUD—yeah there’s a non-hormonal version that’s made of copper but I’m not getting into how that works right now,” Adam continued. “You basically have a three-month long period when it first gets put in and then after that you start getting them less and less until you just stop getting them all together after like, two or three years with it. I don’t know what happens when you have to get a new one after five years, but I’d assume it stays gone.”

“So…” Ronan hesitated. “Because you’ve had this IUD for a while, but not two years, you still get your… period,” Adam laughed at Ronan’s reluctance to say the word and Ronan’s cheeks flushed scarlet. “But, not every month like Sargent does.”

“Right,” Adam said. “And it’s shorter than it used to be, too. Like, before I’d be in this much pain with the other shitty symptoms for a good four days and then it’d be manageable for another three days after. But now, it’s only like this for one or two days and then I only get baby cramps and spotting for another two or three days until it's over.”

“Fuck,” Ronan breathed, letting his head fall into his hands, propped up by his elbows on his crossed legs. “I can’t believe you’ve ever endured more than just the morning we’ve had of it so far. This is fucking brutal, dude.”

Adam huffed. “And you’re not even experiencing the bleeding part of it.” 

“God, I am so sorry.” 

Adam shrugged. “Nothing you can do about it. It sucks, but there’s nothing to do but wait it out.” 

Ronan grimaced. “If every cis guy had to go through even five minutes of this I swear sexism would decrease by seventy percent.”

“Unfortunately, I think even then they’d find a reason to demean women and keep depriving them and the rest of us with vaginas of our reproductive rights.”

Ronan wrinkled his nose. “I thought it sucked being the only gay guy in a conservative village in the middle of nowhere.”

Adam shrugged. “This isn’t the oppression Olympics, Lynch.”

“I know, I know, I just...Fuck,” Ronan scrubbed his hands over his face before locking his gaze with Adam’s, which he’d finally allowed to drift away from the cloth. “I’m trying to be sympathetic and considerate and shit and not be an ignorant dumbass, ok?”

For the first time during the visit, Adam let out a genuine laugh. 

“Ok, ok. I’m sorry, I’ll stop giving you a hard time. I know this can be weird for people who don’t experience it themselves.”

“Periods or being trans?”

“Both?” Adam chuckled. “I feel like in my situation they’re pretty tied together. It’s hard not to feel all the ways that my body isn’t right for my head when I’m bleeding between my legs and my breasts are so swollen I can’t even fathom trying to fit them under my binder like they are now.”

Reflexively, Ronan’s eyes drifted to Adam’s chest. Though he wouldn’t have noticed if it hadn’t been pointed out to him, Adam was right in that his breasts were definitely more… prominent. The giant sweater Adam was drowning in concealed them pretty well, but there were obvious curves that were pretty hard to ignore once they’d been pointed out to you. 

Ronan could feel his cheeks heating when Adam cleared his throat and he realized what he’d been doing. 

“Fuck,” Ronan covered his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m the fucking worst.”

“You’re not,” Adam assured him, his voice soft and laying a gentle hand on Ronan’s thigh. “You’re just not used to it. But, you’re trying, which is more than most others do. So, don’t worry about it. I’ll let you know if you make me uncomfortable.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Ronan asked, his gaze flitting between Adam’s face and Adam’s hand on his thigh. “I mean, about the period. Like, can I get you anything or do anything to make it… less awful?”

Adam shook his head. “Not even painkillers do much for me—they tend to make the nausea worse actually, so any pain they relieve isn’t worth it. The best I can do is what we’ve both been doing: hot and cold compresses, stupid yoga positions that for some reason reduce the pain, and….” Adam flushed and laughed under his breath. “Ok, well, there’s one other thing. But, I don’t have the energy to do it myself right now and I’m sure as hell not going to ask you to do it for me. You wouldn’t want to anyway.”

Ronan rolled his eyes and cocked a brow at the other boy. 

“Oh come on, Parrish,” he said. “You can’t say shit like that and expect me not to hound you until I get the info out of you. You’re cute, but you’re not so cute that I’ll let you get away with being a tauntingly secretive bastard.” 

Ronan’s own jaw dropped as he realized what he’d just said, but Adam was already laughing before he could fumble his way through a non-incriminating explanation for his word choice.

“Well,” Adam chuckled. “It’s only going to prove that I’m right once I tell you.”

“Stop hedging around the bush or whatever the fuck you Americans say, Parrish.”

“Alright, you asked,” Adam grinned, though his blush was steadily spreading and growing a brighter shade of red against his tawny skin. “Sometimes masterbating helps with the cramps. If I’m not completely wiped out by the pain or from throwing up, getting off two or three times throughout the day does more than ibuprofen ever has.”

Ronan’s eyes widened and he audibly swallowed. Adam laughed again. 

“See? Told you it wasn’t something you’d want to do.”

Ronan didn’t know what to say but he sure as fuck it couldn’t be what he was actually thinking. He was pretty sure, “the fuck makes you think I wouldn’t want to get you off,” would be the wrong way to tell Adam about the massive crush he’d been harboring nearly the entire time they’d known each other.

But, Ronan didn’t lie either. So he was at a loss as what to say.

Apparently, he didn’t have to say anything, because something on his face or in his eyes or fucking some part of his body was betraying him because Adam had stopped laughing and was now looking at him with curiosity pulling at his brows and interest in his eyes. 

“Or…” he gulped. “Or, maybe it is?”

Ronan ducked his head and took in a deep breath in through his nose. His eyes fluttered shut as he let the breath out, shuddering, through his mouth. He didn’t lift his head to see how Adam would react, but he nodded his head and murmured, “maybe.”

He felt more than saw Adam crawl into his space. The bed shifted beneath him, he could hear the springs groan as Adam moved forward. His arms coming to bracket Ronan’s hips, his nose brushing against Ronan’s, his hair creating a short, dusty curtain between them, and their breaths mingling. 

“You sure about that?” he murmured. “It’s not going to be what you’re used to.”

Ronan huffed a hoarse laugh. “You say that like I’ve gotten anyone off before.” 

If Adam was shocked by this, he didn’t say or show that he did. He just kept moving closer, his legs coming to take the place of his arms on either side of Ronan’s hips, moving his arms around his neck. Ronan couldn’t keep his gaze away any longer; he looked up at where Adam now peered over him. The sight knocked the breath out of him. 

“I know you’re gay, Ronan,” Adam started as he lowered himself into Ronan’s lap. “But for some cis guys that doesn’t just mean, ‘attracted to men,’ it means, ‘attracted to men with dicks,’” he took in a breath and looked Ronan in the eye. “That doesn’t include me.”

Ronan scoffed. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we just discussed that.”

“Talking about it, knowing it, isn’t the same as getting down and dirty with it,” Adam said. 

His words startled a laugh out of Ronan and Adam soon joined him with quiet giggles.

“I’m just saying! I don’t have a dick, Ronan. I have a, currently bleeding, vagina and testosterone enlarged clitoris. I have breasts that are much larger than they appear when I’m wearing my binder or even right now in this giant sweater and today they’re more swollen than ever. You can’t say yes to this and then be repulsed by my non-male body. That’s not fair.”

Ronan wrapped his arms around Adam’s middle, pulling him fully down into his lap and pressed close to his chest. He could feel the soft tissue of the other boy’s chest like a cushion between them; the heat between his legs pressed pleasantly against Ronan’s low tummy. Adam smelled like sweat and eucalyptus and cheap lavender soap and musk. He couldn’t imagine anyone not feeling absolutely intoxicated by his presence. 

“I want to help you,” Ronan murmured into the small space between their mouths. “I want to get you off, make you feel good, distract you from this fucking bullshite that’s been forced on innocent uterus owners across the world,” Adam giggled at this, his chest vibrating against Ronan’s. “But, if I say yes to that, knowing that it means accepting you for what you are and all that you have, you have to agree to something for me, too.”

Adam’s brows furrowed minutely, his smile faltering. 

“And what’s that?”

“This can’t be a one-time thing,” Ronan said. “This can’t be a, ‘well, Ronan was here and he offered, but it’ll never happen again’ thing and it can’t be something we repeat again without… without…”

“Without?” Adam prompted.

“Without it meaning something,” Ronan whispered. “If we do this, it means that we’re both all in, ok? Because… because I can’t have anything less than a committed relationship with you, Adam. Anything else would just hurt too—”

Adam shut him up with the press of hot, plush lips against his mouth. 

“Ok,” Adam agreed once he’d pulled back. “You agree to accept that I don’t fall under the typical definition for a guy and I agree that this means more than sex, that I want more than sex from you.”

Ronan gulped. “Yes.”

Adam smiled. “Then what are we waiting for?”

And Ronan honestly didn’t have an answer for that. 

He lunged forward and pressed his mouth back against Adam’s, kissing him through the giggles ringing through the other boy’s lips. Though, it wasn’t long until his laughter was replaced with hot gasps and breathy moans. Adam used his arms around Ronan’s neck to pull him closer, impossibly so, and Ronan swore he was drowning in the best kind of way. 

He pushed them forward, prompting Adam to lay down on his back, which he did without question. Ronan moved his kisses to Adam’s cheeks, making each one soft and lingering before moving to the next bit of skin. Adam let out a content sigh once he reached the line of his jaw, gasping at the teasing nibble Ronan gave at the sound. 

As Ronan moved to Adam’s neck, his kisses became hotter, rougher, sucking on the skin and putting his tongue to work.

“I thought you said you hadn’t done this before,” Adam rasped. 

Ronan hummed a smile against Adam’s jugular. “I haven’t.”

“Sure as fuck doesn’t feel like it,” Adam moaned as Ronan took in a mouthful of skin and sucked, hard. “Jesus, Ronan.”

Ronan pulled back, admiring his work. There would be a nice, purply-red bruise forming soon enough and only Ronan would know  _ exactly _ how it’d gotten there. 

“Maybe I’ve just thought about doing this with you,” Ronan mumbled against Adam’s skin, moving to lap at his collarbone. “... A lot.”

The noise that came out of Adam’s mouth as Ronan continued to kiss and lick and suck at his skin, as he moved a hand under his sweater, was a mix between a gasp and a laugh. 

“Glad to know I haven’t been the only one.”

Ronan groaned at this. Just the thought of Adam thinking about this, them together, was enough to get him fully hard. Adam potentially thinking about them while he got off? The image had Ronan bucking his hips down against Adam’s thigh involuntarily. He was about to apologize for his forwardness, but Adam cut him off with a moan and lifted his own hips to grind against Ronan’s erection. 

“God,” Ronan’s whole body shuddered. He pushed both his hands under Adam’s sweater and pulled back enough to look him in the eye. “Can I take this off?”

Adam bit his lip and furrowed his brows, considering. 

“Yeah,” he said at last, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t feel horribly dysphoric today, so I think it should be fine… just don’t grope my breasts a lot. You can touch them with your hands, but if you want to spend more time on them, use your mouth. Easier to forget how big they are that way.”

Ronan nodded his understanding vigorously, his mind whirring with all the things he could do to Adam’s chest with his mouth now that the idea had been planted. 

Adam lifted himself up just enough for Ronan to shuck the sweater off his small, soft, sweat-shiny body. Adam took off Ronan’s muscle tank for him in return before settling back onto his back. 

Ronan, however, stayed upright, admiring the expanse of flesh and fat and muscle and bone laid out before him. Adam was wearing only a pair of worn boxer shorts over black panties and he was absolutely gorgeous. 

“Are you just going to stare at me all day or are we gonna move along with it?”

Ronan laughed, standing to slip out of his sweats so they were in equal states of undress before he pressed his body back on top of Adam’s. He kissed him hotly on the mouth and Adam wrapped his legs around Ronan’s waist as if to keep him from leaving again. 

“Eager are we?”

Adam merely bit Ronan’s lip in response, pulling him closer to continue licking into his mouth and grinding his hips against Ronan’s ever hardening cock. Ronan moaned and all thoughts of teasing were replaced with pure want. 

Ronan moved his head back down to Adam’s collarbone, continuing to trail kisses across his skin, pausing here and there to add some color to the canvas, until his mouth was lined perfectly with Adam’s left nipple. 

Ronan took in and let out a shuddering breath, running his calloused hands over the two swollen mounds of flesh and squeezing. Adam let out a whimper and Ronan instantly looked to the other boy’s face, looking for any sign of distress or that Ronan should stop. 

But, the whimper had been one of pleasure, not pain or discomfort. Adam was biting his lip raw, his cheeks were a beautiful flushed pink under his many freckles, and he was squirming like he couldn’t contain the pleasure he felt in his body. 

“Fuck,” Adam whimpered. “That… that felt so good.”

Ronan cocked a brow. “This?” he asked, giving Adam’s breasts another squeeze. 

Adam bit his lip harder and moaned deep from his chest. He nodded his head frantically and grabbed Ronan’s hands with his own, like he was afraid Ronan would move them away if he didn’t. 

“My chest has always been really sensitive,” Adam explained, breathless. “And sometimes, they’re so tender that all it takes is some nipple play and groping to get me off.”

Ronan’s jaw went slack with awe. 

“Is that what you want to do now?” he asked. “Want me to keep doing this, even though you said no hands? I can maybe use my mouth, too?”

Adam whined and nodded his head. 

“And this,” Adam murmured, lifting his hips to grind hard against Ronan’s cock. “I want to feel you come while you move against me.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Fuck yeah, ok.”

Adam laughed and pulled Ronan up to kiss him, smiling with his teeth. Ronan started moving then, wiping Adam’s smile from his face and replacing it with a round O, erupting with his moans. Ronan would have chuckled if he weren’t feeling so unwound at the feel of Adam’s groin against his erection. 

He kept the pace slow but hard, pressing into Adam with long thrusts that held all of his weight. He’d moved his mouth back down to Adam’s chest, rolling one of the swollen nipples with his tongue and pinching at the other with his fingers. Adam was breathing so hard that Ronan momentarily wondered if he should be worried that he was hyperventilating. But, before he could give the concern more thought, Adam was letting out a particularly loud, drawn-out moan as Ronan gave his breast a particularly hard grope.

Adam’s body was shuddering beneath him and curling into itself. Adam was gripping Ronan’s shoulders like if he let go he might fall apart and never come back together again. Ronan could feel a hot, dampness forming on the thin fabric between them, right where Ronan was pressing his cock. 

“Did you just come?” Ronan asked, reverence in his voice. 

Adam nodded the best he could and pulled Ronan’s mouth to his, kissing him messily, dazed by the intensity of his orgasm. 

“Don’t stop moving,” Adam murmured against his ear, pulling Ronan as close to him as he could. “I want you to get off too. Want to feel you come apart.”

Ronan didn’t have to be told twice, picking up his thrusting movements from before Adam’s beautiful distraction. 

With Adam rutting up to meet Ronan’s thrusts and Adam’s mouth sucking on his neck, it was only a few moments more before Ronan could feel the hot, wet spurts of his cum making a ruin of his underwear. He shivered against Adam’s limp form beneath him, moaning into the crook of the other boy’s neck and tears spilling down his cheeks. 

Ronan didn’t know how long they laid there, blissed out in the afterglow of their orgasms. It seemed impossible for them to be this out of it when they hadn’t even directly touched each other to get off—but, that seemed to have only intensified the feeling of desperation and want leading up to their mutual releases. 

Once he’d found the strength to be disgusted with his drying, cumstained boxers, Ronan rolled off of Adam and onto his back, still barely in control of his breath despite how long it’d been since they finished. 

“Did that help?” he asked, voice completely wrecked. 

Adam chuckled. “Yeah, it did.” he turned his head to smile at Ronan then leaned in for a chaste peck on the lips. “Thank you.”


End file.
